Seductive Secrecy (Shadows series) (12 page)

“They have waiters for that, Charlie,” she sniffed. But before I
could turn and leave, she’d placed her order. “If you insist on
serving me, then I’d
love
a white wine spritzer with four ice cubes…not three or five, but
four
, please. And make sure it’s a thick glass…nothing thin enough to break in my hand.”

I didn’t even bother to roll my eyes. Emma was right: she wasn’t worth it.

I smiled and turned around, heading to the bar that was on the other side of the room. I reached the front of the short line and gave the bartender my order, purposely neglecting to mention anything about the glass or the number of ice cubes Lora wanted. All of it was too ridiculous to repeat.

“What do you think?” someone asked me.

I followed the voice. It had come from the man who was
standing to my left, his arm resting on the edge of the bar.

“What do
I
think?”

He nodded.

“About what?” I took a sip of my red wine, and grinned.

“The art. Your thing, not your thing, no one’s thing…you
know—what do you
think
?”

He was dressed in all black, a little more casual than what some of the other men were wearing tonight. But his eyes…they weren’t casual at all. They were a deep blue, almost a teal, like the exact spot in the ocean when the green water met the navy and they melted together under the sunshine.

“It’s definitely my thing,” I said. I hadn’t really had a chance to dissect it, but I really liked what I had seen so far. “The artist has a fantastic style. Brilliant...colorful. Thoughtful. And it’s bold and loud, both of which I most definitely enjoy.”

“Perfect answer.” He winked, and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jameson…I’m the artist.”

I was glad for my answer. “I’m Charlie
”

“I know.” His smile was so large it was spreading to my lips. “I’m a huge fan.”

“You are?”

“I’ve been following the rise of your career. From afar, of course. I bought one of your pieces at last year’s exhibit.”

I released his fingers, but not before the tattoo on his wrist
caught my attention. It was black and red flames, peeking their way out of his sleeve. When my eyes traveled back to his face, I noticed the small black corks in his ears and the silver ball in the middle of his
tongue. It triggered a memory of one of my old client’s at the
mansion. He’d had a similar piercing in his tongue. He used to rub ice over the metal before he licked me. It had only taken several seconds before the combination of the cold and his flicking would bring me past that screaming edge.

Lilly laughed in my head.
Slut
, she said.

She was much more difficult to ignore than Lora had been.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking the thoughts and her voice out of my mind. “I’m so embarrassed…I should have remembered you from the gallery.”

“It’s not your fault. We’ve never officially met. I had to head out of town, so I was only able to catch the very beginning of your event. Unfortunately, I never got a chance to speak to you.”

“That’s too bad. I would have enjoyed us meeting.”

“Likewise.” He glanced at the bar where Cameron and Lora’s drinks now waited for me. “Can I help you bring those somewhere? Seems like that’s a lot for one person to carry.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. This is your exhibit, and I don’t want to take up all of your time.”

“Please,” he said, lifting the two glasses, “it would be my
pleasure.”

He walked by my side and we stopped once we reached
Cameron and Lora. But before we joined them, about halfway across the floor,
Cameron’s eyes had found me and followed me the rest of the way.
Even though his stare was on me, my attention was on Jameson. We discussed the piece I had been observing before Lora had interrupted me.

“Cameron, Lora,” I said, “I’d like you to meet Jameson. He’s the creator of this collection.”

Cameron shook his hand and took the glasses from me.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir. You do fantastic work.”

Jameson tipped his head and smiled. “As do you, Mr. Hardy. Consider me a fan…I know your work very well.”

“Well,
I
don’t know you,” Lora said, reaching her hand out in his direction. Her eyes scanned him from top to bottom. “But you look as much like a work of art as what you have hanging…” No one knew what to say to that. Lora looked at everyone and smirked. “In the gallery, I mean.”

Jameson had such a cool demeanor. He actually chuckled at
Lora’s
comment, and said, “Yes
that, too.” And when he shook her
hand—
distant and business-like—I had to believe by her expression it
wasn’t the intimate embrace she was hoping for. I didn’t know what type of men she was attracted to in general
I hadn’t met her husband or even seen a picture of him
but Jameson’s coloring couldn’t have been any more different from Cameron’s. He had blond hair that was much longer than Cameron’s, spiked in all different directions; a devilish grin that didn’t just involve his mouth. It spread to his eyes
and his brows, making it impossible to tell what he was really
thinking.

“I’ll let you all get back to your conversation,” Jameson said. “Cameron: fantastic to meet you. Lora: a pleasure. And Charlie,” and he took my hand in his again, “it was wonderful to speak with you at last.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “When you have a chance, please give me a call. I know of a collector who’d love to have one of your pieces. She’s a high-payer, too…it would be entirely worth your while.”

I looked at his card. It was glossy and black with splashes of
color in the center
a miniaturized version of one of his canvases. His name and number were in the corner. “Thank you, Jameson. I will.”

Cameron’s arm suddenly found me again and slowly pulled me closer to him. Jameson noticed the movement as his eyes followed Cameron’s hand and his fingers that had curled around me. He unhurriedly looked up from my waist, meeting my stare, and he smiled before he departed our group.

I glanced at Cameron. “He bought one of my paintings.”

I didn’t think it made him feel any better to hear that.

“Which one?” he asked tersely.

I shrugged. “He didn’t say…so I don’t know.”

But now, I really wanted to find out.

CAMERON SAT NEXT TO ME IN THE LIMO,
his side pressed against mine, his hand in my lap as we rode to our final layer. We were coming from the North End, the Little Italy section of the city, and we hit much more traffic during this part of the journey. After the exhibit, he’d taken me to Michelangelo’s, one of the best Italian restaurants in Boston. It wasn’t the trendiest place or the best-known, but it was considered the most authentic. He had reserved the entire basement, which was a wine cellar, and we shared several courses, paired with the appropriate white or red. I had spent the two hours admiring his mouth: the way he inserted the utensil, how his lips stretched over the food and the shapes they took on when he chewed…the way he licked the bottom one on occasion. It was euphoric, tantalizing to know those same lips were going to be on my body later.

As much as I craved Cameron’s sexual side and enjoyed
cherishing his features, I couldn’t stop thinking about the other emotions that ran through me and how much had changed in the last several months. “My life is so different now,” I whispered as I glanced around the limo. It was the first time I had spoken out loud since we’d returned from dinner. The sudden noise brought his attention from the window back to me. “It’s so much more intimate now that I’m this far out of the mansion.”

“You’re desired just as much on this side as you were in there.”

“Maybe, but your adoration means so much more.”

He brushed his thumb across my chin and the brief movement caused my heart to speed up. “There’s no maybe about it.” A soft chuckle came through his lips. “Adoration…is that what you call it?”

I nodded.

“I like that. But I’m not the only man who adores you…or
worships you…or fantasizes about you. I saw the hunger in the eyes of those
buyers who were standing with Professor Freeman.” He paused.
“And Jameson’s.”

He was right; there had been a bit of flirtation coming from
Jameson. It could very well have been just part of his personality, though. He seemed like the type of man who used his edge to charm and it definitely worked. And I had to admit that he was attractive.

But he wasn’t Cameron.

“Does that bother you?” I asked.

He shook his head, his hand moving to my thigh. “You’re mine. As long as they don’t touch you, I take it as a compliment. I don’t blame them for wanting you. You’re breathtaking.” He breathed into my neck as he spoke. “And I don’t fault them for staring at you. Your body is delicious.”

This wasn’t the first time Cameron had shared that kind of
flattery with me, but it sounded as though it was. When words came from
his mouth, they weren’t rote, or rehearsed. They were, in a strange
way, heartfelt. They had meaning; they resonated in all the places within me that mattered.